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Saturday, December 12, 2015

Hope, Despair ~~ A bit of "Micro Poetry" (and history)


Jailed man picture: Nicolas Fouquet and replica prison cell in the
Vaux-le-Vicomte cellar. (see below—
click on picture to enlarge)

Click here (my 2010 blog post) for the story of Nicolas Fouquet

Hope and Despair
 
Through the grains of sand I peer 
Freedom's not far, though I fear 
For sure it won't be escape, 
unless. A saw in my cake 

Grains of sand, where is my gem 
Shackles and chains, crime's emblem 
Fortunes were made, came prestige 
All I have, here, loathed vestige 

Friends are gone, won't loosen chains 
Hope is nill, not in these grains 
_ _ _ _ 
Poem and Photo Copyright © 2015 and 2010 Jimmiehov, All Rights Reserved
Sandgrains picture below from Kerry's post, click on her name below:

I'm linked with 
To see the world in a grain of sand...
William Blake

13 comments:

  1. What despair in that prison cell.. I could feel the weight of all those grains on top of his despair.

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  2. You do describe the picture well - what hopelessness.

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  3. Oh dismal life. How can anyone work in a prison? I'd rather work in a coal mine.

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  4. Excellent narrative, Jim. I especially like the closing couplet.

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  5. So much drama of despair for those behind bars. One may not feel the traumatic experience unless in their shoes.

    Hank

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  6. The moment I read of "sand" so close to food (cake), I thought of crunchy eggs... There is always dried and dusty (and haunting) about food in the field.

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  7. What a story this is! I cant imagine the spirit it takes to endure such circumstances. And yet, people do.

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  8. I could feel the weight and despair in this poem. Every bar, a million grains of sand.

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  9. What a dark tale. How does one keep hope alive in such circumstance?

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  10. to think, despair is, for many many a reality; well penned Jim

    much love...

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  11. ... brought low after having so much. He has all the time in the world to count each speck on his cell wall. I can't even imagine the torture...

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  12. Your tale is a legend told in ballad with the rhyme and meter--a precautionary tale. I used to love an old song called the prisoner's song when I was a child--so poignant. --agh. k .

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